Cupid
by thir13enth
Summary: This update: Lee/Yakumo. From SakuSasu to HinataTobi, ratings from kisses to kinky, ranging from pure humor to perfect horror, experiment a bit and see if any of this crack satisfies your taste! Requests accepted; go in store for details.
1. By Definition: ShinoLee

**As a quick yet wordy introduction, this is just what the title says it is—a collection of crack couples from Naruverse that I've been requested to write over time (this list can be found on my profile). Not all of them will be crack, of course, but to keep my profile less cluttered, I'm sequestering everything here.**

**These will range from drabbles to very long one shots depending on my imagination and the amount of blank page I want to cover but nevertheless these duos (or trios…or x-number-os) will be done. Most will be comedic…and although a lot of them are rather strange combinations—think of melted cheddar cheese drizzled on a warm spicy apple pie—they might actually turn out brilliant—I mean, fuck, **_**someone**_** had to pioneer putting coffee into chocolate...in other words, give this crack a chance!**

**And yes, do feel free to request pairings. Challenge me; dare the impossible; make me never want to write ever again! (Ah…as for the ratings of these stories…we'll discuss under the table.)**

**Anyway, enough of me, I bring you the circus:**

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**This one is for Kilalahinanaruto555…and her sister, I suppose. **

**My message to them: I'm happy to announce that you're cutting the red ribbon to this new story :). Thanks for the challenge; it was actually an odd pleasure to write and came out a lot longer than I expected! As for your other request, allow some time for that to marinate in my mind. :) Hopefully the request won't end up preserved, lol. No pun intended.**

**Enjoy!**

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**By Definition**

_(Shino/Lee)_

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The Aburame family each had some sort of a favorite insect.

And the fetish ran down the generations, despite their upbringing around their specialty kikaichu parasites. None of them really had a choice—their clan's chakra-sucking bugs truly were the best of the best—and every Aburame was bred together with the six-legged creatures from the time they were walking on all fours in order to create an everlasting bond between the species.

But they did have a choice in what insects they chose to favor and observe.

For example, Muta's hidden obsession was the formidable ant, and underneath all his stoic countenance, Shino's father was quite overly knowledgeable about dragonflies.

Except whenever the entire family was over (and they came in swarms for the holidays—no pun intended) Shino would be confronted each year about his favorite insect—god forbid his aunts gave him a bad gift!—as much as the typical child of another clan would be asked their favorite band or most worn color.

And each time, their maturing prodigy would give a rare turn of lips and frown, explaining that no, he didn't have a favorite insect.

This, Shino figured, must have been the reason why he constantly received clothing from his relatives as opposed to anything that couldn't be eaten by moths.

Perhaps slightly frustrated or something, 12-year-old boy thus set out on a mission that day to find an insect that he had at least some passion for—so that he could at least blurt it out and have it rehearsed in the middle of a reunion.

And he looked up towards the trees and looked down towards the grass, and scoured left through the sand and scoured right through the river, and poked over trash and poked under rocks, but he could find nothing that drove his interest level above a 'meh.'

"Shino, with all good interest, what are you doing?"

A voice like sharp cheese with a respectful-as-classy-wine tone?

Had to be the orange-and-green-jumpsuited fool.

The insect-user simply looked up at Rock Lee and replied matter-of-factly, "Observing."

The other genin didn't seem to be satisfied with his answer, but turned his eyes toward what he thought Shino was watching—shades are always inconvenient, except to the guy that checks out feminine curves—and squinted in the given direction.

Of course, Lee wasn't looking the right way, and Shino's irises were actually perplexed at the rather wide and disc-shaped eyes that were fixed on the bowl-cut boy.

Shino never noticed it before, but Lee's eyes looked like—and the Aburame narrowed his eyes upon thinking this—bugs.

They had three legs of eyelashes each, but nonetheless looked like some sort of exotic beetle.

Maybe it was the angle of light that let him see past the polarized lenses, but when the taijutsu-trained boy swiveled back to question what his friend had been watching, he suddenly realized that the insect-lover was staring straight at him.

"Er, Shino, is there wrong with my face?" he asked, his bushy eyebrows wiggling out of curiosity.

The white-jacketed genin stood up slowly, hands still in his pocket. He replied only a moment later, taking a step closer toward Lee, in the same stoic and collected yet eerily creepy manner that Kishimoto had prescribed him.

"Your eyes look like bugs," stated the high-collared boy.

Lee wasn't sure whether this was an insult or a compliment, and since most people in the fandom ranted about his odd looks, he figured it was more plausible that Shino's comment was the former and reacted as such.

"Oh," he responded dejectedly, and his bushy eyebrows encored with a nervous downward shiver.

And then, Shino realized that his bug-eyed friend also owned an intriguing pair of caterpillars for eyebrows, and he was strangely—even for someone like him—mesmerized by the precise muscular control that Lee had over his upper facial features, allowing his caterpillar-eyebrows to crawl and critter in the infinite amount of emotions that Lee expressed.

"And your eyebrows look like caterpillars," Shino thus added.

Lee's face sagged and depressed a bit more, his eyebrows deflating in a peculiar wave.

Not intending to explain what he had actually meant or to even talk about his thought process, Shino simply took another glance at Lee's insects before turning on his heel and walking off to catch his team for training.

Under his large white collar, Shino's hidden lips twisted in thought.

Perhaps he did favor something after all—

Though he was debating if the caterpillars atop of Lee's forehead were technically classified as insects.

Shino kept his head down the remainder of the walk down town; behind his shades, his eyes were actually in deep concentration and thought about what the definition of an insect was.

As strange as it may seem to the normal person, in Shino's family, what each member thought a _real _insect meant was just as identifying to a character as what honor, valor, or respect means to the rest of us. ("He thinks that insects include anything that doesn't belong in the house? Oh that poor child…he will never become a shinobi. But don't tell his mother I said that!" or "What was that you said—oh!—that insects are messengers of life, distributing pollen throughout the earth? Oh, you have _such _a brilliant child, Shinji-san, and she is barely 8!")

So the young Aburame debated this all throughout the rest of the day, even during training, and in the middle of nowhere with unjustified timing—something to match his 'mysterious' and 'shady' personality—Shino turned to the rest of Team Kurenai with his ever calm façade.

"Even though caterpillars have more than six legs, are they still insects since they eventually turn into butterflies?"

He asked this in a serious manner, and if we were to translate, he'd be asking something along the lines of, "What _is_ the meaning of life?"

His teammates—undoubtedly—looked quizzedly back at the pensive insect-user before answering with a unified, "Uh, yes?"

So thus, the two caterpillars across the brow of a bowl-cut, green-fitted, bug-eyed ninja were his favorite insects.

What would his family think of their grown up son? ("Caterpillars are barely the proper form of their mature six-legged winged beauties!")

But for a growing crush, Shino would think outside of the box.

Caterpillars are insects?

He could deal with that.

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**Reflections? Retrospections? Rants? Raves? Requests? And dare I ask it: Reviews?**


	2. Quicksilver: AnkoGenma

**Originally this was its own ficlet, but I'm doing some spring cleaning so this little misfit had to be tucked away into this story :P. (And yes, I just realized that I'm a season behind in the clean up...oh well.)**

**Enjoy whatever the case:**

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**Quicksilver**

_(Anko/Genma)_

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As of right now, he's obsessed with me.

"Anko," he said while dragging my body down against the mattress. "You are by far the most amazing woman I know."

"You probably have said that to _every _woman I know," I replied with a shove. I stood back on my feet again, refusing to be womanized by the player.

"Yeah…but I was lying to all the rest of them," he smirked and tried to advance on me.

"No, no, no, no," I reminded him, putting my finger on his lip and pushing him away again. "Go home, you smell like sake."

"So?" he said, laying down on my mattress, later propping himself up with his hands.

Irritated, I explained, "We just went for a drink, you irresponsible idiot. You're not supposed to follow me home after that."

"I thought it would be funny," he argued.

I wrinkled my nose. "You're not making sense."

"You know…I thought you were always into the practical jokes and stuff…"

"I don't see how this is a practical joke."

Genma shrugged. "Just pretend it is one."

"Ha ha?" I questioned.

"See, now you're not taking me seriously."

"I'm pretending that this is a joke, not that this is serious, remember?"

"You know, you used to be so much more fun," he complained, sputtering that into my ear.

Even drunk he was at top shinobi speed. And it almost thrilled me.

Grossed out at the thought of sake in my ear, I told Genma to go take a shower or wash his face.

"You should come with me," he suggested. And after I gave him a hard look, he added, "What if I drown…I am drunk, you know…"

"_Then_ I'll come get you," I said, turning my back. Geez he was only a friend to me, but I wasn't wrong to heed Shizune's warnings about Genma's reputation to "travel around" in his taste for women. _He has…obsession phases…_, she told me, _during which he will constantly try to woo you. Whether or not a girl falls for him in the end, he will move on. God, he's so temperamental!"_

I thought she was imagining things to be like that because she was in love with him, or so I thought. I thought jealousy just tainted her opinion about him meeting new women.

But now I knew.

I heard a yell of some sort, and knew he had turned on the cold water.

"Ahh! Anko!" he called, holding onto the last vowel in a plea.

Pssht no. He's a shinobi. He can deal.

After several minutes, I heard the water being successfully turned off, and a few minutes later, a half dressed Genma stumbling back into my bedroom.

"Genma, go put a proper shirt over yourself, find your pants, and stop dripping water all over the place. I motioned disapproval to the thin undershirt and boxers.

Teeth chattering (well of course, it was dead winter and I left the window open a crack for some fresh air), he said he couldn't find his sweater and that the pants were too hard to put on.

I sighed and walked him over to the bathroom, made him lean against the wall to put on his pants and put a towel over his hand. I found his sweater in the tub, wet, and twisted the excess water out for later drying.

His teeth were chattering and I plucked his senbon out of his pocket and stuck it behind his teeth, telling him to bite down on it to stop the chattering.

I noticed goosebumps over his arms and felt sympathetic however, later sitting him down and throwing a blanket over him. I turned to shut down the window and then proceeded to dry his hair.

"Shiranui, you're such a helpless idiot, even if you're not drunk," I remarked, massaging the wet hair dry.

He looked at me, with some kind of shameful eyes, the kind of eyes a dog gave when it has done something worth scolding for.

Some kind of impulsive feeling came over me and I sat down next to him. His guilt filled eyes asked for forgiveness, something that strangely washed over me in that moment.

"Poor Genma," I cooed and embraced him.

"You're so warm…" he said, words slurring together.

"Yep. Because I wasn't the fool that turned on the cold water."

He put on a frown and slipped his arms around my waist and slid me over onto his lap.

He nuzzled my neck, but I didn't want his lips on my neck. I pushed his jaw up and met my lips to his, feeling his mouth curve into a smirk.

Normally, I would have slapped him for that sly smile. But I knew that I wasn't supposed to expect anything else from someone as uncommitted as him.

He was quicksilver, temporary and always changing his mind.

I might as well give into his obsession.

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**One line summary of the fic: One night and one more time-thanks for the memories! ;)**

**thir13enth**


	3. Falling into the Sky: KakashiYuugao

**As a really quick reminder, Yuugao was from all the way back in the Naruto Chuunin Exam arc—she was that purple-haired ANBU that was the late Hayate's lover. Anyway, I don't even remember who or what prompted this pairing—but I was walking around outside an ungodly hour and thought of this drabble idea, finding it would suit this couple the best.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Falling into the Sky**

_(Kakashi/Yuugao)_

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Taking her hand away from the cold headstone, she could feel a chill raise even under her protective cat-faced mask.

Today marked the second year after his death, but kami, it seemed just like yesterday when he last held her in her arms and gently commanded for her to not worry about him while he had gone to rush off to confront the Sand shinobi.

She could still taste the bile that had lifted into her throat when she found him, blood as cold as the pale moon, lying on the red-soaked ground where the treacherous Sand ninja had let him for dead.

She could still hear the curses that littered her mind from that day on, swearing to avenge the damned murderers, the agonized wails that leaked from her eyes that night when her screaming and crying just couldn't express her pain.

Closing her chocolate brown eyes, she traced the engraved name of her dear beloved with a saddened gaze.

He shouldn't have been encased underneath the ground that night; he should have been in her arms, smiling in the streetlights, blushing under her lips, laughing at a stupid joke—warm.

Standing and pushing her long violet hair out of her face, she realized the back of her eyes were burning, welling up with tears she didn't want to shed.

Turning her face upwards to the star-saturated sky, she asked herself what she ever did to deserve to see the beautiful night and what Hayate had ever done to not.

With her neck craned up to the heavens, she let the tears pool over her eyes, blurring the twinkling stars and fair moon into the dark velvet night.

She thought to not blink the liquid sadness away—this was what Hayate was seeing.

Nothing but black.

"You'll break your neck watching the sky for that long," a voice said behind her.

She recognized it from the past days when that same voice had commanded ANBU troops.

But she knew him better through the many times she spotted him at another grave.

He might have seemed a light and casual person, but when he was remembering the past, he was just as dark and brooding as any other mourner.

And he had been mourning for ages—longer than she had, visiting the grave of someone who had passed many years ago, someone from his childhood days.

The silver-haired jounin had been carrying loss' burden even before he grew old and strong enough to support it, and she respected him for not being crushed under its weight.

She still didn't reply to his remark though; she really just wanted to have her own thoughts.

But she didn't move away when he joined her either, resting a half-gloved hand on her right shoulder and craning a masked neck up to the night.

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**thir13enth**


	4. Petals: KakashiAnko

**Well, this isn't very Cupid-like of me, but I had this random KakaAnko story one-shot without a home, just sitting there on my computer for the past...year or more than that? It's more solemn/angsty, but I figured that my other more cheerful KakaAnko stories would make up for this one, lol.**

**Anywho, still taking requests for pairings! ;) Next coming up is probably going to be Lee/Yakumo. :)**

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**Petals**

_(Anko/Kakashi)_

It's not love.

That's why they never use the words "lovers" to think of each other.

...

Anko pensively watched the wind curl breezes around the single flower that stuck up out of the grass. She leaned back hard onto the bench, all the way to the left side, the metal sticking into her skin.

If she were truly alone, she would have been seated at the center.

But she wasn't.

Kakashi had only recently stood and walked off in the opposite direction after having sat with her for only a while. He had left without a word, and she hadn't expected any. She almost hadn't even noticed that he had disappeared, except for the fact that she had at least wanted to keep her dignity and had wanted to see if he had even acknowledged that she was even there.

But where he had sat on the bench was never warm, and he hadn't intended to stay with her for long.

It was the same with their relationship. They collided with each other on tangents and they had no real purpose for being together.

It wouldn't make a difference if they were apart.

Anko looked off at the single white flower bending in the light gust of wind once more. She found it amusing how it was the only one out of the ocean of green and how it attempted to stand tall enough for attention when really its stalk was so supple, any breath of air too firm could knock it out.

The white petals were so radiant. It was disappointing—the large beautiful petals were trying to fit on a stem too small. The plant was trying to make something big out of something small; that would never work.

Much like Kakashi and Anko.

How it had all started, Anko couldn't really guess.

One night they had noticed each other and blindly bonded over needing someone—something—to latch on for security.

It could have been a one night thing, but out of respect and tradition, they were somewhat obligated to maintain at least some sort of relationship, or at least meet once in a while.

But it always ended the same way: with either Anko or Kakashi walking away without a word.

Anko decided to replace her idleness with curiosity and stood to go up to the single flower. She decided to put it out of its misery and plucked it clear off the stalk. She quickly counted the petals arranged symmetrically around the yellow center and recalled one of those childish activities that many a young girl in love would do.

A game where one petal after the other was plucked, alternating between a fate of 'he loves me' and 'he loves me not.'

She felt the need to strip the flower of its grandiose beauty and thought that she might play the little game at the same time.

She began with 'he loves me'—

But was it really that?

She replaced 'he loves me' with 'it'll work out,' pulling out a petal. She failed to pluck it completely, instead, ripping the delicate thing, half of the petal latching for dear life at the center.

She found his depressingly humorous and finished the job, parting the rest of the petal from its yellow home, mentally reciting, "He loves me..." and "We'll work together."

The kunoichi looked at the flower now, which was missing all but one petal.

The flower—once perfect, but now lacking...missing many pieces.

It reminded her or herself and him.

They were missing pieces of themselves. Perhaps they had believed that each other would fill in the gap.

But apparently their efforts only made the emptiness more empty. Apparently the holes they had hoped to cover were really larger than they believed. Apparently they weren't enough for each other. Apparently the gap was like a stomach—always requiring more, always emptying out again, and never satisfied.

She remembered when the other jounin had noticed something more about how close they had sat next to each other at the last party. They had actually been caught with their hands between their thighs, fingers half-intertwined. They hadn't even noticed it themselves and had only realized it when the others asked:

"Lovers?"

But Anko and Kakashi had only grimly smiled and said nothing in response. They hadn't been sure of what to call it themselves.

Nor had they moved their hands away from each other afterwards.

Suddenly, Anko remembered where and how it had all started.

She had been at the bar, pondering over a cup of strong sake. She'd had only half the cup, but already the intoxication had seeped into her.

But she knew she wasn't drunk...yet.

She'd still had the sense to question every weird movement around her. She'd been alert enough to catch someone coming up behind her and had recognized who had taken a seat to the left of her.

He had simply ordered his drink and had waited while she'd gathered up the courage to start a conversation.

His drink had been handed to him, but it seemed as though he'd had only ordered it to hear himself talk, since he had taken no sip of the alcohol and hadn't even tried to touch it, merely watching the clear liquid gold sit in its cup.

She had questioned his motive in her head, but at the moment, she had been too busy trying to forget what she'd had originally come there to refuge in drunkenness for in the first place.

Something about that atmosphere had brought them to bring their eyes to each other. And neither of them had looked away, reading past the colors of each other's eyes, only looking away once they had understood each other's reasons for being there.

And maybe more.

Perhaps it had been the alcohol, or perhaps it had been her desperation to lean on someone else. But whatever it had been, Anko's hand had slowly reached out for Kakashi's untouched cup of alcohol, though she had clearly not even finished her own yet.

Her fingers had wrapped around the cool glass and he had just watched her. Only moments after, he had put his own hand over hers on the cup and helped her lift the alcohol up over to her mouth, which suddenly hadn't even wanted the liquor.

But he had rolled the smooth glass over the parting of her lips and coaxed them open anyway, spilling more of the acrid shit into her mouth.

He'd slowly pulled his hand back to his pocket and she had placed his cup of alcohol back on the table, in an angry demand.

"Hatake," she had asked. "What brings you here...if you're not going to have a drink?"

He had looked off to the side when she'd asked this and only after a long time had he answered.

"For company, I guess," he'd admitted.

She had nodded, not really having any opinion of it.

Another long block of silence had passed between them before he'd said:

"You're not drinking."

"No," she'd agreed. "I never wanted it."

He had said nothing and Anko had reflected on why she'd had even told him the truth, thinking that it'd have been better if she'd have lied. In fact, she should have had taken another sip to fill in the gap.

"So then, what's your reason for being here?" he had asked her.

Anko hadn't answered. But to be polite, she'd mumbled, "I don't know," before getting off the barstool and walking away.

Her feet had met the ground way earlier than she'd expected and she'd found herself caught by the shoulder by the silver-haired jounin.

The warmth of his touch had radiated through her thick clothing and had burned her.

Something had happened with both of them at that moment and, as though connected, they had stepped out of the bar and had chosen a corner to lean Anko against while Kakashi had pressed his tongue against hers, sharing the taste of sake.

Something in Anko had stirred by this gratification of a desire she'd never known she'd had and her hands had thus wrapped around his neck to hold him closer against her while his tongue had continued to flutter in her mouth.

She'd pulled away when she had lost breath and had pressed her lips against the side of his neck, tasting sweat and the masculine musk of his skin while her skin had shivered under his hand's caress up and down her back.

While her breath had tickled his neck, he—whether it was accident or not, who cared? — had brushed against the side of her breast. She'd reacted to this much more seriously than she had ever thought she would have and hadn't refrained from biting her teeth down into his skin.

The pain he'd felt and the realization that she'd been causing him that pain drew the two of them back to reality, wondering where the hell all of that had come from.

He had stared at her for a moment, eye to eye, before pulling up his mask up over his face, which she had never actually saw, due to the shadows of the late night, or would have remembered, due to the bitter sake anyway, afterwards.

And with that, he had gone with the night, leaving Anko alone to her thoughts once again.

Anko didn't find reason to smile, returning to the present and lifting herself from her memories, the torn flower in her hand, half-petal fluttering downwind a long way past her.

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**Well so ends this angsty piece!**

**thir13enth**


	5. Sunset: LeeYakumo

**Hey all! Moar crack pairings for everyone!**

**This is for you, Kilalahinanaruto555! Thanks so much for this idea and for making me Google this Yakumo character—it was really a nicely Kurenai-centric arc! Sorry it came out like five months after you requested it, but I've earned some free time over the holidays and am working away at all my requests! Of course I made sure to start with yours!**

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**Sunset**

_(Lee/Yakumo)_

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Poised in her hand, her brush hovered over a palette of colors.

It was always difficult to get the exact shade she wanted. How could she best portray the beauty in front of her? How was she going to depict the emotions, the warmth, the history of the scene she had in mind?

What color would best match the courage in his eyes? What strokes would she need to use to how much self-sacrifice he held in his heart? The struggles and the pride that he grew out of?

A dragon breath red? A meadow grass green? An ebony Milky Way blue? A soft flame-lit yellow?

Yakumo turned her eyes from her canvas to the window.

She pursed her lips in disdain for her art. Why was it that she could never reach the exact brightness, the exact radiance, the exact happiness and joy that the world around her presented? She returned her disappointed eyes to her easel once more and looked again at the colors on her palette.

She had all the colors that she had ever wanted. She could make all the colors that she could ever dream of.

But why did the colors look so dull and tarnished in comparison to the world she wanted to replicate on paper?

Something moving strangely outside the window perked her curiosity. Not having any idea what had just passed by her window, she quickly ran over to the window to take a look, her fine paintbrush still at hand.

What…what _was _that?

Her eyebrows narrowed and her mouth gaped slightly open. She slipped her brown hair back behind her ears before making sure that her amber eyes were seeing exactly what she was seeing.

It was that boy! It was that boy that always passed by doing some sort of a weird exercise every day! Yesterday he had been doing some sort of jumping jack run around town twenty times, sweating buckets and looking limp with muscle fatigue.

What was he doing now? His body was arched in a perfect bridge and he was…walking on his hands and feet? What sort of an exercise was that?! Flexibility? Strength? Stamina? Resisting embarrassment?!

Yakumo looked down at her pale white hands—she would never be able to do those sorts of acrobatic tricks with her weak body.

The bowl-cut haired boy suddenly flipped onto his feet and right at her through her window.

Gasping, she ducked down from the windowpane, hoping that he hadn't seen her.

"Oi!"

With a bit of panic, she clutched her beating heart, stayed where she was. If she just kept quiet…

"Oi!" And then some strong knocking on her window. "Open up! I know you're in there! What's your name?"

So upfront! She closed her eyes and attempted to control her breathing. If she waited long enough, he would eventually go away. She was never going to ever look at the window like that so conspicuously like that again! If she just waited long enough, eventually he'll stop bothering—

"Oi! Open up!"

So persistent!

She took a breath in and gulped. Then she gathered enough courage and strength in her legs to get up and look out the window.

So bright!

She gasped, the light turning to dark.

…

"Hey! Oi! Can you hear me?! Wake up! Are you okay?!"

Yakumo's eyelids flickered open.

Too close!

She yelped, backing away from the boy. Now that she took a second look at him, he actually looked quite strange—a green jumpsuit that was probably tighter than should have been good for us body and orange cuffs on his pants, not to mention the overly shiny black bowl-cut hair and his very immensely bushy eyebrows.

"Do you usually faint all the time?" he asked.

It took her a moment to recover. "I guess so…yes," she replied with a soft smile, almost embarrassed.

It just happened to be then that she noticed her window, broken in and shattered to pieces all around her room.

"Sorry about that! I broke through your window—I thought something happened to you!"

She was so stunned that she had completely forgotten how to be angry. He placed her gently back on the ground—wait, he was holding her up?—before getting up and brushing down his clothing. "I will help you clean up your room! It will be part of my training today!"

She coughed once. "T-training?"

"Yes!" and he gave her a flamboyant thumbs up. "I train hard every day so that I prove that someone like me can be just as good of a ninja as anyone else that can use ninjutsu!"

"Ninja?" Some sort of fear gripped her heart.

"Yeah! A ninja that can't use ninjutsu!"

She looked down. "A ninja…"

"Well then! Let me help you out with picking up all the glass! I will pick up every shard in less than a minute! Ready, set—"

"Wait!" and she gripped his wrist with as much strength as she could before he sped off to the dark recesses of her room. "What's your name?"

"Rock Lee!" he exclaimed. "And yours?"

"Y-yakumo," she replied, and then apologized. "Um, sorry…I-I'll help you pick up the glass too."

His attention was suddenly elsewhere. "Oh? What's this?" He pounced over to the many many paintings that were leaning against her wall. "Paintings? You must be an artist!"

"Uh…y-yes!" she answered, watching him flip through all of her work.

"Wow…so beautiful!" He stopped at one of the paintings—and her heart stopped when she realized which one he had at hand.

"Oh, th-that's—"

"Is that me?!" Rock Lee stood up, holding the painting out in front of him to admire the brushstrokes.

Blushing furiously, she turned around before giving him an affirmative sound. It was a painting that she had sketched out while spotting the green clad ninja training past her window last week.

"It's really nothing…"

"I think it's a masterpiece!" he retorted. "I have truly never seen anyone depict me that well—you truly have a talent for making things beautiful!"

"Well honestly…I just paint what I see…" she said, her voice fading out to the end and her blush furiously tainting her cheeks with a light pink that was comparable to the one that she was creating on her palette.

He put his painting down and looked at the work that she was working on. "Looks like you're drawing a ninja! And a sunset in the background? Isn't this view from the top of the Hokage Monument mountain?" he asked, recognition gleaming in his eyes.

Turning around, she nodded slowly.

"I-i-it's never as beautiful as they are in real life," she stammered. "I can never get it to match the colors right…"

"Well I mean, that's really hard to do if you can't see the scene that you're painting right?"

Speechless, she played with her fingers. "I…I…"

"Come on!" he exclaimed, taking her hand. "I'll take you there!"

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed! Don't forget to leave a review and also suggest a crack pairing yourself if you haven't yet already!**

**thir13enth**


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